The Heart of Asshai
by lizzieafterdark
Summary: The Long Night is coming, and the Lord of Light foresees the destruction it will wreak upon Westeros. Determined to change the continent's accursed fate, R'hllor seeks out a Champion from another world—one who knows what it is to fight the Darkness, who understands the price of failure and the meaning of sacrifice. She is the Phoenix: the fiery Heart of Asshai.
1. Prologue

**THE HEART OF ASSHAI**

* * *

 **Prologue**

* * *

 **From the Hall of Prophecy:**

 _Godric's chosen three will fall to the Dark star._ _Victory will mark their demise._

 _Two will depart this life; one, this world._

—Cassandra Trelawney

* * *

 **From _Signs and Portents_ , recovered by Archmaester Marwyn and featured in his _Book of Lost Books_**

 _Light's Champion will arrive by the Shadow._

 _Through death and through life, she will lift the darkness._

 _Phoenix, she will rise from the Ash_ _and join with the Promised in the Second War for the Dawn._

—Daenys the Dreamer

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STYGAI

Hermione was burning.

But this heat—it wasn't like the scorching, crimson tongues of the Cruciatus that she knew so well, the liquid fire that had charred every capillary of her bloodstream from the inside out, razing her sanity to cinders in moments that spanned seconds and eons all at once.

No.

This heat was _electric_ , and even through the agony of it all, Hermione could feel herself being stripped down and remade in its flames. The scars of her past were being mercilessly incinerated and it was the most harrowing relief she'd ever experienced. She writhed against the stone ground and let loose a scream, equally tortured and triumphant.

Somewhere in the distance, a great roar called out in answer, and Hermione smiled, a new peace settling in her bones.

She wasn't alone anymore.

Her amber eyes flew open, and their curious gaze swept over her surroundings. As she rose shakily from the rugged ground, taking in the world before her, Hermione laughed in spite of the pain still coursing through her veins. Her smile twisted as it mimicked the wryness of her thoughts.

 _Well,_ she mused to herself, _if I'm going to burn...I might as well do it in hell._

The city around her—if it could be called that—was a crumbling, blackened ruin, shrouded in night. The flames that still engulfed her form were the only source of light in the place, and she could feel their magic—now her magic—sheltering her body and mind from the insidious darkness that seemed to ooze from its very soil.

Slowly, a chorus of high, sibilant shrieks reached Hermione's ears, sending a shiver rippling down her spine.

Twisted, wicked-looking creatures were sidling out from the shadows, drawn by the warmth and the brightness that Hermione exuded. Among them, there were serpents with hide like obsidian and sharp, ebony fangs; human-like beings, nude and covered in grayish scales, whose movements were oddly disjointed; wraiths, each composed of black smoke that billowed eternally within invisible confines; and in greatest number, there came the animated corpses, with rotting flesh and skeletal figures quite reminiscent of the Inferi.

Together, the creatures' eyes glinted like a sea of stars in the glow of the flames, but not a single pair produced a light of their own.

Seeing this, Hermione's suspicions were confirmed: these creatures were not alive, not truly. They thrived in death and in darkness, and left unchecked, they would consume and destroy any stray life that had the misfortune of happening upon their wretched city.

Perhaps they had already done so.

 _But no more_.

With that final, grim, determined thought, Hermione let go.

An otherworldly cry tore itself from the young woman's lips as, at long last, she accepted the blistering heat into her body.

Fire merged with flesh, forging her anew as a being of fire and light.

Then, without warning, Hermione threw her head back and flung her arms wide open, and a torrent of energy burst from her in a ring of golden-white flames.

The ring surged outwards, vaporizing the demons around her where they stood before they even had the chance to cry out with their unearthly voices. Hermione closed her eyes, flexing her magic to fuel the flames, pushing the ring into the city.

Fire raced through deserted streets and licked voraciously at the black stone walls of their dilapidated structures, searing away the dark magic therein with incandescent light. The darkness left the stone buildings in smoky, black wisps that faded into nothingness, revealing grays and browns and reds and even whites as their true colours.

Hermione's eyes fell open once more and she watched in silent awe as the flames purged the now evident curse from the city around her, freeing it from the malevolence that had festered there for so long.

Eventually, after an immeasurable period of time, the white-gold tendrils of fire receded from the far reaches of the city, having fulfilled their purpose, and converged upon their source. The flames swarmed Hermione, and she cried out one last time as her body reabsorbed the fire, welcoming it back into her being.

Then, as quickly as the flames had taken over, Hermione's form was restored to flesh and blood. Suddenly exhausted, she swayed on her feet; it wasn't long before she fell to the dirt, drained from the exertion of her newfound powers.

High overhead, that same, thunderous roar sounded, making the very ground tremble with its might.

Hermione let her head fall back—heedless of her hair mingling with the dirt—so as to peer up at the sky in anticipation. Her eyes glistened with wonder at the sight that awaited.

A massive dragon was flying in great, leisurely circles above where she lay, casting a great shadow over the city in the faint, growing light that hinted at the dawn. Slowly, in arching spirals, it flew lower and lower in the sky, and as the dragon came nearer to her, Hermione couldn't help but marvel at its sheer size.

With a graceful dive, the beautiful and terrifying creature completed its descent, landing in the dirt at Hermione's side with such control that despite its impressive mass, the ground did not so much as give a tremor.

A long and elegant scaled neck wove into Hermione's field of vision, followed shortly by the head attached to its extremity.

In the next seconds, vivid orange-gold eyes stared down at Hermione, holding the young woman transfixed as she recognized the stunning age and intelligence within their depths. Amazement aside, Hermione bore the dragon's perusal unflinchingly, unafraid.

The two beings of fire watched each other for a time, recognizing the peculiar, innate camaraderie that existed between them as well as their mutual delight at the prospect of a companion after suffering as long as they had in isolation.

Then, Hermione broke off the silent exchange, distracted by a gentle nudge to her arm.

The dragon was extending its wing to her, unmistakable amusement twinkling in its ancient eyes when her gaze flicked back up to meet its own. The dragon snorted at her fondly, nudging the young woman with its wing once more, this time with a little more insistence.

After she recovered from her initial surprise, Hermione nodded wearily at the creature in acknowledgement, a gesture which it then returned with a bob of its enormous head.

Heaving herself up on all fours, the witch proceeded to crawl up the dragon's leathery wing and onto its back. Despite her fatigue, she managed to find a comfortable place to rest in a natural dip between two sections of spikes along the dragon's spine. Hermione settled herself into the space as best she could, lying down on her stomach, resting a cheek on the scaly surface of the dragon's back, and extending her arms to grasp a spike in front of her gently in order to steady herself for their departure.

Once she was ready, Hermione lifted a hand and patted the dragon's hide twice before returning her hand to its hold on the spike and bracing herself for what was to come.

Slowly, so as not to jostle its rider, the dragon stood on its hind legs and propped itself up on its wings, one limb at a time. It took several small strides, which evolved into leaps, until finally, with a few persistent beats of its wings, the dragon was airborne.

Hermione held on tightly as the dragon began its ascent, ruthlessly tamping down the flutters of trepidation in the pit of her stomach. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, and then began to concentrate on the feeling of the wind blowing through her hair in an attempt to calm herself.

The technique was certainly effective, because before long, Hermione's exhaustion got the better of her. Although she fought to stay awake, the soothing caress of the wind against her body and the steady rhythm of the dragon's wings soon lulled her into a heavy sleep.

* * *

And so, on that fateful day, a colossal, bronze-scaled and amber-eyed dragon was spotted soaring over the Ash between the jagged peaks of the Shadow Lands, carrying its weary rider south.


	2. Divergence

**A/N: Thanks to everyone who followed, favourited, and most importantly, reviewed this story after reading the prologue. Your support is much appreciated. :)**

 **This chapter took a little while to nail down. It had several versions, but I ended up liking this one the best, despite remaining slightly uncertain about it. In any case, I hope you enjoy this installment of THOA. If you can spare a moment, please let me know your thoughts on the chapter in a review or PM.**

 **Also, I'm going to go out on a limb here by anticipating a question and then answering it: in terms of when we'll see Rhaegar in this story, it will be a few chapters yet. Hermione has to establish herself in Essos before anything can happen between them, after all, and there is another flashback chapter after this one to get through before we really get to Hermione making a name for herself in Asshai and beyond. And then there's a little matter of...well...I suppose you'll find out soon enough, won't you? XD**

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 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter, ASOIAF, or Game of Thrones. No copyright infringement is intended in the writing or sharing of this story.

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 **I. Divergence**

* * *

 _BEFORE STYGAI, Part I_

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HOGWARTS

When Harry appeared from beneath the Cloak, so gloriously alive, to shield Mrs. Weasley from Voldemort's curse, Hermione's heart soared, the accompanying swell of joy nearly choking her in its intensity.

Her best friend—her _little brother_ —had survived yet again, and there was a fire in him now, a new hopefulness that had Hermione responding in kind. She could see it in the way he held himself, in the confidence of his expression; for once, Harry really believed that he could end it...that he could win.

He stepped up, bold as the House he'd chosen all those years prior, to face the madman who'd wanted him dead since his infancy.

Slowly, methodically, he ensnared Voldemort in a web of old, powerful secrets, engrossing everyone on the sidelines in the process. Every pair of eyes in the Great Hall was fixed on the two of them, watching as they prowled in a circle, never looking away from one another. They were a pair of rival predators, each searching for the right moment to strike at the other's jugular.

The aura of tension in the Hall thickened with each revelation, culminating when Harry revealed that he'd beaten Voldemort to Draco, the previous master of the Elder Wand, and Disarmed him while at Malfoy Manor.

"So it all comes down to this, doesn't it?" her friend whispered, and despite the quietness of his voice, everyone in the Hall heard the speech. "Does the wand in your hand know its last master was Disarmed? Because if it does...I am the true master of the Elder Wand."

Dawn chose that precise moment to make itself known as streams of sunlight blazed through the panes at the far end of the Hall, throwing both Harry and Voldemort's faces into fiery relief. In the next breath, each shouted their last hope to the heavens-adorned ceiling above.

 _"Avada Kedavra!"_

 _"Expelliarmus!"_

Two jets of light raced towards each other, colliding between their casters with a loud bang.

Brown eyes wide, Hermione stared as the spells fused into one long beam, connecting Harry and Voldemort. So this was Priori Incantatem, she realized, an undeniable awe sweeping through her as she watched the magic roil and pulse within its constraints, the odd clusters of sparks bursting from one point or another along the unstable beam.

Then, just as quickly as the spells had joined, it was over.

The Killing Curse rebounded, striking Voldemort directly over his shriveled, black heart.

The Elder Wand pried itself from his hands, flying in a high arch through the air.

Harry reached out a sure hand and snatched the Wand from its trajectory just in time to watch Voldemort's corpse crumple like a fallen tower to the unyielding ground.

Time seemed to stand still.

Hermione's eyes widened in disbelief as the new reality sank in: Voldemort was dead _._

But in that same moment of stillness, before anyone had recovered from the awe that had struck so violently, a startling shock of green light shot out from somewhere in the crowd—and collided with the small of Harry Potter's back.

Hermione stared, utterly incredulous, as Harry's stance wavered.

Then, right before her eyes, his body began an abrupt descent towards the floor.

A primal shriek of alarm tore itself from Hermione's throat, sounding vaguely like a name; and yet, as though they'd all been Petrified, no one in the crowd moved a centimetre.

Two sharp _Crack!s_ split the air in quick succession, and at her side, Ron froze.

Hermione turned sharply to face him, just in time to witness Ron's blue eyes bug as a second jet of light, in that same wicked hue of green, struck his torso.

For what felt like a small eternity, Ron and Hermione gaped at each other in mutual horror.

And then, Ron's legs gave out.

Hermione swooped to catch him, dropping harshly to her knees on the stone floor of the Great Hall, her disbelieving gaze fixed on the slack features of the redhead in her arms.

The only thought that managed to penetrate the fog that blanketed Hermione's mind was the staggering reality that in the space of _seconds_ , both of her boys had been stolen from her.

A flurry of movement caught Hermione's eye and her head snapped up to spot the source, her wand flying to her hand. She narrowed in on a faint glimmer in the air, made visible by the morning sunlight that was filtering into the Hall.

At last, she understood: somebody had Disillusioned themselves and was using their invisibility to pick off survivors. Their invisibility _and_ Apparition; somehow, the wards that prevented the latter were failing.

Even as a curse began to form on Hermione's lips, the shimmering specter disappeared, another _Crack!_ ripping through the Hall with an unsettling air of finality.

Hermione's shoulders sagged in defeat, her eyes suddenly burning. Salt water streaked her cheeks in rivulets and she did nothing to stem their flow, beyond caring.

She bent over and lowered her forehead to press against Ron's. Forcing back a sob, she lifted her head to touch her lips to his brow.

"I'm sorry, Ron," she whispered.

Her fingers trembled as she slid his eyelids shut, wiped her tears from his skin, ran her fingers through his waves of brilliant red-orange hair.

"I'm so sorry."

A strange, instinctive wave of determination took over Hermione's body. Without questioning her actions, she gathered Ron in her arms, cradling the undersides of his knees with one limb and wrapping the other around his back, her hand finding purchase on his shoulder. Then, with a huff of exertion, Hermione hauled him off the ground, struggling to her feet one leg at a time.

Stooped by the burden of Ron's weight, Hermione shuffled forward. She faltered a few times, shifting Ron's body in her grasp out of strain but never once surrendering to the protests of her muscles before she reached her destination. At last, with a sigh of release, Hermione let herself fall back onto her knees, mindful of her precious cargo.

Painstakingly, the young woman laid her beau next to their best friend, her throat constricting at the sight of the two of them, side-by-side and _empty_.

Numbness spread through her system like morphine.

Hermione began to fuss over them, her manner a parody of absentmindedness. She closed Harry's eyes just as she'd done with Ron, straightened both their sets of limbs, and combed her fingers through their disarrayed locks. Hermione was vaguely aware of the whispers of the crowd and the occasional sound of distress or sorrow, but none of it mattered to her.

She just couldn't bring herself to look away from them: Harry Potter and Ron Weasley.

 _Her boys._

A soft, warm weight settled on Hermione's shoulder. A spark of annoyance flickered in her chest at the disturbance but then dissipated just as quickly. She ignored the touch in favour of her continued observance of Ron and Harry.

However, it seemed that whoever had touched her wouldn't be dissuaded, because the next thing Hermione knew, the air was shifting as they knelt at her side. Gentle fingers brushed Hermione's cheek, and she shivered.

Finally, the young witch turned her head, and her bleary stare was met by the equally deadened gaze of one Ginny Weasley. Her brown eyes looked into Hermione's knowingly, and then the girls were in each other's arms, clinging to one another.

"I thought they were safe," Hermione rasped, the confession safely stifled by the curtain of Ginny's long, red hair.

"So did I," her friend agreed, the murmur hoarse. "I believed for a moment—I really did. Thought it was over…that they'd made it."

— _Crack!_ —

Hermione and Ginny started at that all-too-familiar sound, scrambling out of their embrace and to their feet, moving back-to-back. All around the Hall, people had their wands out and were scanning their surroundings, frantic with fear.

All the while, Hermione and Ginny rotated their stances slowly, staying back-to-back as they scoured the Hall for any hint of the invisible attacker. Hermione, hit with a sudden bolt of inspiration, brandished her wand in a sweeping motion.

" _Finite Incantatem!_ "

At the wave of her arm, a dark mass materialized in Hermione's peripheral vision. Both she and Ginny whirled to face it, and an uneven breath hissed between Hermione's teeth as she realized who she'd unveiled. Her body stiffened, and her heart gave a stutter of pure, instinctive fright.

There—with black curls as riotous as ever, dark eyes twinkling with rabid delight, and yellowed teeth bared in a grimace of a smile—stood Bellatrix Lestrange, obviously and impossibly alive _._

Hermione and Ginny acted in unison; several bright hexes flew from the tips of their wands, trained at the witch who ought to have been dead. Bellatrix conjured a Shield with ease and Hermione watched in dismay as her and Ginny's spells were dodged or deflected into the crowd. Thankfully, neither of the girls had tried anything lethal, so those too slow to perform their own Shield Charms were Stunned at worst.

Despite the lack of collateral damage, Bellatrix's grin widened as she thwarted the girls' efforts and to Hermione, her smile was the literal stuff of nightmares. She fought to suppress a shudder.

As soon as there was enough of a gap between hexes in the volley of spells thrown her way, Bellatrix spun on her heel, Disapparating with a mocking wink in the girls' direction.

Ginny let out a muffled scream and Hermione grimaced in sympathy, just as furious.

"I know, Gin," she said quietly, giving her friend's hand a firm squeeze even as she struggled to keep her own fear and frustration at bay. "But we have to focus. She's not finished yet, there's no way she is. Any second now..."

Hermione's grip on her wand tightened. She sank a little deeper into her stance and concentrated on the rhythmic cycle of her own breath to try to keep her hands from shaking.

— _Crack!_ —

Immediately, Hermione began casting _Finite Incantatem_ , her arm swooping methodically as she repeated the incantation in her mind. Ginny too was murmuring the spell aloud, copying Hermione's movements, but despite their efforts, neither witch managed to unveil Bellatrix before the sound of Disapparition rang out once more.

Hermione's jaw clenched as she bit back the shriek that threatened to escape her throat; Ginny, on the other hand, had given up any semblance of restraint and was cursing violently under her breath.

Abruptly, Hermione noticed that something had changed.

"Ginny," she asked, a strange edge to her voice, "is it just me, or is Voldemort's body gone?"

Ginny whipped around, eyes darting to the spot where her once-tormentor had been lying sprawled on the ground, only to find nothing in his place.

"Bloody hell! Why—no, never mind, forget why. _How_ is this even possible?" Ginny hissed, disbelieving. "Mum killed her! We both saw it. She died _._ "

"She did," Hermione said slowly, her thoughts racing, "but we didn't destroy her body. Which means..."

"What?" asked Ginny. " _What_ , Hermione?" she snapped as said girl failed to answer.

Cold dread oozed down Hermione's spine, making her shiver.

"She has a Horcrux. It's the only explanation."

"A what?" Ginny demanded, impatience and trepidation colouring her tone in equal measure.

Hermione paused, closing her eyes briefly as she debated whether to tell her more. She'd spent so long keeping the secret of the Horcruxes from everyone outside of Ron and Harry that withholding the information was a reflex. But as her mind rushed to imagine the consequences of telling Ginny, Hermione's eyes widened in realization.

With Harry, Ron, and Dumbledore gone and Slughorn burying his head in the sand, Hermione was the only person—at least, that she knew of—who had any knowledge of the Horcruxes and how to get rid of them. And if Bellatrix got to her...

"It's Dark magic," Hermione blurted to Ginny, and then it all started pouring out. "A Horcrux is an object that's used as a container for a piece of a person's soul so that the rest of the soul is tethered in this plane of existence and the creator of the Horcrux can't die." Her words gained speed as she spoke. "Voldemort had six, maybe seven of them; that's what Harry and Ron and I were doing this year, hunting them down and destroying them. For the most part, he used really ostentatious things to make them, family heirlooms and magical artifacts—"

"—Ravenclaw's diadem," breathed Ginny, understanding dawning in her eyes as she turned to meet Hermione's gaze.

Hermione nodded. "Yes, exactly. I'd bet Bellatrix chose something similar. I don't what exactly, but it's somewhere to start. But I need you to know, Gin; they can only be destroyed with Basilisk venom or the Sword of Gryffind—"

— _Crack!_ —

Before Hermione could even react to the noise, her wand had ripped itself from her hand and she was being yanked backwards by the scruff of her neck. Sharp nails pierced her skin, entangling themselves in her wild hair in a vice grip. Hermione gave a startled yelp as she staggered, and then her back hit something soft but solid—another person's body.

Immediately following the collision, a jet of brilliant green light shot out over Hermione's shoulder.

This time, it was Ginny who fell.

Hermione watched her collapse, eyes bulging in their sockets, mouth open in a silent scream.

All the while, hot, dry breath wafted in puffs against the curve of Hermione's bare neck and she froze as she felt her captor lean closer, terrified and repulsed by the proximity and the knowledge of who had her prisoner. She struggled to break free of their hold, but the grip on her hair only tightened in response, forcing Hermione to bite her lip to keep from crying out.

Just then, a low, throaty rasp sounded right next to her ear.

"You know, Mudblood," whispered Bellatrix Lestrange, pressing the tip of her wand into the underside of Hermione's jaw, "we never did get the chance to finish our little chat, now did we? But I suppose it's better late than never.

 _"Stupefy."_

And with that, Hermione was sent hurtling headfirst into darkness.

* * *

— _Crack!_ —

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 **A/N: Hope you enjoyed the chapter. Again, please let me know your thoughts in a review or PM if you can spare a moment. Until next time, my dear readers!**


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